Now, I know it's not the intellectual equal of Jeopardy! But it's still a mainstay of the evening game shows.

I will find out within the next 18 months (yes, that's right, in the next year and a half) when my taping and airing with Pat and Vanna will be. I'm sure I'll keep you posted. Talk about dragging out an old topic sometime down the road.

I'm worried about having an interesting tidbit about me when I'm on. I do know I want to work in my SportsJournalists.com life, but don't want to go negative. I'll figure something out.

My best friend has a huge -- and I mean a fucking huge -- man-crush on Pat Sajak. He's been trying unsuccessfully to get on that show for years.

For Christmas two years ago, I bought the kid an autographed picture of Sajak and framed it. He put it on his nightstand so he could look into Sajak's eyes as he fell asleep. One time, while he was unemployed, his mother walked into the living room -- it's not going in that direction, I swear -- and saw him sitting Indian-style about four feet in front of the tube, watching "The Wheel."

"Jeff," she says, "what did you do today?"
"Huh?" Jeff said.
"You really like that guy, don't you?"
And all he could muster was, "What?"

My best friend has a huge -- and I mean a fucking huge -- man-crush on Pat Sajak. He's been trying unsuccessfully to get on that show for years.

For Christmas two years ago, I bought the kid an autographed picture of Sajak and framed it. He put it on his nightstand so he could look into Sajak's eyes as he fell asleep. One time, while he was unemployed, his mother walked into the living room -- it's not going in that direction, I swear -- and saw him sitting Indian-style about four feet in front of the tube, watching "The Wheel."

"Jeff," she says, "what did you do today?"
"Huh?" Jeff said.
"You really like that guy, don't you?"
And all he could muster was, "What?"

My best friend has a huge -- and I mean a fucking huge -- man-crush on Pat Sajak. He's been trying unsuccessfully to get on that show for years.

For Christmas two years ago, I bought the kid an autographed picture of Sajak and framed it. He put it on his nightstand so he could look into Sajak's eyes as he fell asleep. One time, while he was unemployed, his mother walked into the living room -- it's not going in that direction, I swear -- and saw him sitting Indian-style about four feet in front of the tube, watching "The Wheel."

"Jeff," she says, "what did you do today?"
"Huh?" Jeff said.
"You really like that guy, don't you?"
And all he could muster was, "What?"